Page One
by ArtsyChick
Summary: Page one of Clara Oswald's "101 Places to See" is a crisp red leaf found on a playground over a decade ago, and it's the first place she wants to see.


**A/N: **Yesterday I had an adventure trying to find somewhere to watch _The Bells of Saint John. _TV wouldn't work, then Internet, so my friend and I had to drive through a downpour and stand outside under a low dripping roof while she fiddled with a very complicated-looking lock, trying to sneak us into a campus building. We camped out in a conference room with chips, chocolate, and mood lighting. What a lovely way to spend a Saturday :)

Anyway, I wrote this story for a Doctor Who fanfiction contest over on this website called Figment. 1200 words or less and something (anything) about the show. After yesterday, I _had_ to try my hand at Clara (whom I now adore).

This is inspired by _The Bells of Saint John, _the prequel, and a Yahoo! question I read earlier this afternoon. Enjoy!

* * *

Clara twirls the auburn leaf thoughtfully. She almost doesn't believe him.

Almost.

He did save her, after all. And his snog box _was_ surprisingly roomy.

It's as she's lying on her bed, flipping through her travel bookand munching on slightly-stale jammy dodgers, when something strikes her window. Glancing up, she listens as another _ping _rattles the glass. Tucking the leaf into the cover, she hops off the bed and trots over, swinging the window open—

And just manages to duck a wayward pebble hurtling toward her.

The Doctor smiles sheepishly, rocking on his toes and rubbing the back of his head like such a _boy._ She props an elbow on the sill and smirks at him.

"If you're trying to woo me," she says, "it's not working."

"Is it tomorrow yet?" he whines.

"No." She pointedly checks her watch. "It's half-twelve."

"In the afternoon?"

She snorts. "Doctor, it's _dark _out."

"Well, that's technically tomorrow, isn't it?"

She rolls her eyes. "You're not going to leave until I say yes, are you?"

"Well…"

"I'm busy."

His jaw drops. "Doing what?"

But she holds up a finger. "You didn't let me finish," she replies primly. "I won't go with you, officially, until seven o'clock tomorrow." One corner of her mouth quirks up. "But there _is_ somewhere I'd like to go."

Instantly he perks up. "Where?" he asks excitedly, twisting the screwdriver in blatant anticipation.

She grins. "Page 1."

* * *

Clara slams the door shut and resists leaning against the softly buzzing wood. Instead she tromps forward, following the Doctor to the radiating core at the center of the room, clutching _101 Places to See _under her arm.

"All of time and space at our fingertips," he announces, yanking colored levers. He pauses to tap a long, complicated code into a virtual keyboard before turning around to grin at her. "Name anywhere you like." With a swish of his wrist, the keyboard slides along the console to her.

She leans over, studying the letters—most of them bizarre characters she's never ever seen—before carefully pecking out a date. The Doctor tries to catch a peek but she shoves the book in his startled face. "Ah, ah, ah," she chides, shooing him away. "It's a surprise."

He grumbles something, probably rude, but dutifully trots away, poking through the pages as she finishes typing in the place and time. When she's done, she nudges his shoulder. "Ain't got all day, Chin Boy."

The book nearly slips from his fingers, but he jerks abruptly and catches it, before staring at her. Then he touches his chin. "Haven't been called that in a long time," he murmurs. He straightens up, hands her the book, adjusts his bowtie, and grabs a large red switch. "Hang on to something," he says, and pulls it forward.

The box rattles and grinds and Clara grips the rail wrapped around the console, slipping along the slick tile as the Doctor nearly cackles, "Oh, this never gets old!"

And suddenly it stops and Clara's thrown off her feet—right into the Doctor's arms. Granted, he seemed to be accidentally cushioning her fall, but a triumphant smirk crosses his lips briefly before it's overcome with an all-consuming blush.

She raises herself off his chest. "Do you do this for _all _the girls?" But she giggles and dances away before he can reply.

Clara flings open the doors and darts out into a brisk night breeze. It catches her hair and tugs at her dress and she lets it lead her toward a playground. She trails her fingers down a metal chain as gravel crunches behind her, and she smiles. "Remember this?" she asks, turning toward him. He has his hands shoved deep in his pockets, frowning quizzically.

"It seems a bit familiar," he concedes, lightly kicking a spray of leaves.

"Let me provide you a little context." Sliding her fingers around the chain, she settles into the swing and pushes forward. "My mum says I shouldn't talk to strange men," she says.

And suddenly he's plopping onto the swing beside her, clacking his boots together in sheer excitement. "That was you?" he asks incredulously. "All those years… and that was you?"

"Took you long enough," she retorts, a smile in her voice. "You really are old."

He laughs. "Still not strange enough for you?"

"Sorry?"

"You're still talking to me even after your mum told you not to."

"But you're not strange, are you? You're incredible." It's rewarding to watch the Doctor's face light up with pleasure, his sharp cheekbones tinted ever-so-slightly pink. She knows he's going to rub it in her face later, but for now she's going to pretend like she doesn't.

"Come here," she murmurs, leaning over to loop an arm through the Doctor's chain, pulling his swing over until the seats bump together. He mimics her actions to keep his balance and suddenly they're elbow-to-elbow and she can feel the heat radiating off him and see the moon glitter in his twinkly green eyes. "Did you ever find her?" she whispers.

He gazes up into her eyes. "Yes. Eventually. After a lot of wandering about and bumping into things." He taps his boot against hers. "Namely you."

"And are you still lonely?"

"I'm always lonely," he replies, a bit too quickly. "But not right now." He squints up at the sky. "Is this the same day?"

"Yes. Just a few hours later." She tilts her head toward his. "I've always found moonlight to be more romantic."

They sit like that for a while, legs gently swaying as the wind teases their hair and draws their faces closer, until her watch beeps. Snapped out of her trance, she glances down. "It's nearly four," she says, forcing her tone to remain neutral. "I have to take the kids to school tomorrow."

The Doctor sighs. "Darn you humans and your responsibilities."

She rolls her eyes and pushes him away, setting them whirling until she digs in her heels and jerks to a stop. She flounces away from the swing-set to mask the sadness creeping into her step. "Well come on, Doctor, I can't get home by myself."

After a moment he follows her back to the box and she grabs onto the railing as he twists a few knobs and sets the thing grinding again. When it stops, he reclines against the console, gazing at her forlornly. "Do you have to go?" he asks.

She grimaces. "Duty calls."

He tries to nod, but can't meet her eyes. It's too much, too sad, too much like an abandoned puppy left out in the rain. In two steps she's two inches from him, curling a hand in his lapel and pulling him down to meet her lips—

And catches herself. She is _not _going to snog him in his snog box. But she will press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, and smiles as his eyelids flutter closed.

"Don't forget," she whispers against his cheek, and then she's practically skipping out the door, slamming it shut behind her and sagging against the cool blue wood.

She can't _wait _for tomorrow.


End file.
